25. Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Five
Celeste
The diner smells like good coffee and syrup. Two of my favorite smells.
It’s loud in that familiar, comforting way, forks clinking, booths squeaking, the bell over the door chiming every few minutes.
Normally, it settles me.
Today, everything feels too sharp.
Brett sits across from me in a back booth like he belongs there.
Like he belongs in my life.
He’s wearing a university hoodie, sleeves pushed up over muscular forearms, football logo stretched across his chest. He looks clean. Put together. Charming in that effortless, boy-next-door way.
If you didn’t know him, you’d think he was harmless.
“You look good,” he says casually, as if we ran into each other by accident.
“I didn’t agree to this so you could comment on my appearance. And I don’t have much time to talk about this, I have to get back to work.” Picking the diner was the safest choice I could think of. All my co-workers know about Brett, and if things go sideways, I know they’ll be there for me.
His jaw ticks.
There it is. The crack in the polish.
“I just wanted to talk,” he says.
“You texted me legal language, Brett.”
He leans back in the booth.
“I’ve been thinking a lot.”
“That’s new.” I avoid the smirk that so badly wants to appear on my face.
His eyes narrow slightly, but he keeps his voice even.
“I’m Rowen’s father.”
Biological father.
He doesn’t say it, but it hangs there.
“You’ve known that for years, since the day he was born, actually,” I say confidently.
“I was young.” He says it in a way like it’s supposed to supply an excuse when there is none.
“So was I.”
“I’m older now and more wise.”
I almost laugh.
“I know Brett, we’re the same age, we were the same age when I got pregnant, and the same age when I found out about Rowen’s diabetes diagnosis, and the same fucking age when I had stepped up and been the only parent in Rowen’s life.
” I can feel the anger in my body start to rise, the heat flaring on the back of my neck in a way I haven’t felt for a long time.
“And yet, we’re not the same at all. I can give things to Rowen, you never can.”
The jab lands.
He sees it.
Smirks slightly.
“I deserve to be in his life.”
The word ‘deserve’ makes my skin crawl, and the fire burn in me even hotter.
“Deserve?” I lean forward, lowering my voice. “You don’t get to disappear for five years and come back talking about what you deserve.”
His composure slips.
“I didn’t disappear. I was focusing on my schooling, football, and all things to make me a better parent.”
“You blocked my number. Ignored me when I begged for help with his medication. You left him,” I almost said us, but the thing is, losing Brett was the best thing to ever happen to me, and truthfully, Rowen too.
It took me a long time to realize that I always wanted the perfect life for Rowen, and even though he doesn’t have everything he wants, he has everything he needs. He has me, Suzie, and… Tate.
“You were suffocating me!” Brett raises his voice, pulling me from my thoughts.
I blink.
Suffocating.
Because I told him I was pregnant?
“You told me you’d ‘figure it out,’” I say, voice shaking now. “And then you vanished.”
“I wasn’t ready!”
“And now you are?” I demand.
“Yes.”
The word is immediate.
Too immediate.
“Why?” I ask, and it finally comes out raw. “Why now? Why are you doing this now?”
For the first time, he hesitates.
And that terrifies me.
“My parents found out that I wasn’t as involved as I had led on…” he admits.
Ice floods my veins.
“They’ve been asking questions,” he continues. “About legacy. About responsibility. About how I am making the family look.”
Legacy.
Like my son is a brand extension.
“So this is about them? Your father… he won’t pass the company off to you unless you step up for Rowen?
” I whisper, finally putting the pieces all together.
Brett comes from a very traditional family like my own.
They’re wealthy; the kind of wealth that comes with a level of status that requires perfection.
It’s the same reason my parents cut me off.They said no daughter of theirs would be a whore with a bastard child.
I haven’t spoken to them since that day.
“It’s about what’s right.”
“No,” I say, shaking my head. “It’s about control. It’s about you inheriting your father’s company.”
His expression hardens.
“You’ve got that hockey guy playing dad, how do you think that makes me look?” he says.
My heart stutters. He’s uninterested in how Rowen feels. Because Brett doesn’t have feelings or the capacity to question how another person would feel. Only an image to protect.
“Don’t.”
“I’ve seen him with Rowen,” Brett continues. “At games. At the park.”
“He shows up,” I snap before I can stop myself.
Something ugly flashes in his eyes.
“So that’s it?” he asks. “You can’t replace me in Rowen's life.”
“You left.”
“I’m here now.”
“And what does that look like to you?” I demand. “Court? Split holidays? Confusion?”
“It looks like shared custody. How it should be.”
The word knocks the air out of me.
“You don’t even know him. You know nothing about how to take care of him.” I whisper, feeling like I’m losing this battle, my heart breaking the longer this conversation lasts.
“I will.”
“He doesn’t know you.”
“He will.”
Like it’s that simple.
Like children aren’t fragile ecosystems.
“You don’t get to uproot his entire life because your parents want a grandson at Thanksgiving or so you can use him as a pawn in your sick family games.”
His jaw tightens.
“I’m filing paperwork.”
The booth feels too small.
“You’re what?”
“I’ve already talked to someone.”
A lawyer.
My hands go cold.
“You think a judge is going to ignore biology?” he asks quietly. “You think your boyfriend’s highlight reel is going to matter?”
“He’s not—” I stop myself.
Not anymore.
“See?” Brett says softly. “Even you knew that it was temporary.” He smiles in that cocky way that makes my stomach turn.
The words slice deep because they echo my own fear.
“I will fight you,” I say.
He shrugs.
“You can try, but we both know how this will play out.”
“I’m not trying to take him from you,” he adds. “I just want my rights.”
Your rights.
Like Rowen is a property dispute.
The bell above the diner door jingles.
I don’t look up.
I don’t need to.
I feel it.
The shift in the room.
The way my pulse jumps.
Tate’s laugh carries across the diner before I see him.
Him and three of the guys from the team.
Loud. Broad-shouldered. Familiar.
My stomach drops.
Please don’t look this way.
But of course he does.
He slows for half a second when his eyes land on me.
On Brett.
It’s subtle.
But I see it.
His jaw tightens almost imperceptibly before he looks away and follows his teammates to a booth across the diner.
He doesn’t come over.
Doesn’t interrupt.
Doesn’t cause a scene.
And somehow that restraint hurts worse.
Brett notices.
“He looks pretty happy,” he says casually.
“Don’t.”
“I’m sure he’ll move on quick; you should too.”
I stand up abruptly.
“This conversation is over.”
“You can’t ignore legal documents, Celeste.”
“I won’t,” I say. “But I won’t be bullied either.”
He stands too, towering slightly.
“I’ll see you in court.”
The words echo in my ears long after he walks out.
I don’t move.
I can’t.
The air feels thin.
A minute later, Tate’s teammates head out first with a to-go bag in their hands, clapping him on the back.
He lingers.
Of course he does.
I keep my eyes on the table.
He doesn’t say my name.
Doesn’t ask questions.
He just walks past, taking a part of my heart with him.
And for a second, his fingers brush the edge of the table.
Then he’s gone.
I look down.
There, folded carefully on the check presenter, is a small paper flower.
Made from the corner of a diner placemat.
Clumsy.
Imperfect.
Intentional.
My throat closes.
He didn’t confront me.
He didn’t accuse me.
He just… left something.
Like he always does.
Showing up quietly.
Even when I pushed him away.
My vision blurs.
I grab the paper flower and press it to my chest like it might hold me together.
That night, I sit on my bedroom floor with my back against the bed and call Maddie.
She answers on the second ring.
“Okay,” she says immediately. “What’s wrong?” Her voice is light.
I laugh once, broken.
“He’s filing for custody.”
Silence.
“Brett?” she asks. Even though there is an obvious answer.
“Yes.”
“Oh my God. That fucking asshole!” She yells.
“I asked him why,” I whisper. “Why now. And it’s his parents. They think it looks bad that he’s not in Rowen's life, and I’m pretty sure they won’t give him the company if he doesn’t get rights to Ro.” I keep my voice down so Rowen doesn’t hear me in his bedroom.
“Are you kidding me?”
“I can’t let this go to court,” I say. “I can’t put Rowen through that. I can’t even afford that.”
“Celeste—”
“I broke up with Tate so he wouldn’t get dragged into this.”
There’s another pause.
“You what?”
“I can’t risk Brett using him against me. Draft status. Public image. Instability.”
“Does Tate know?”
“No.” And I know I’m an idiot for not telling him. I did what I thought was best, and now I have to live with that.
Maddie exhales slowly.
“You’re trying to carry this alone.”
“I have to.”
“No, you don’t.”
Tears slide down my face silently.
“I won’t let anyone take my son.”
“You won’t,” she says firmly. “But you don’t get to destroy yourself in the process.”
“Maddie, I… don’t know what to do.” I sob now, no longer containing my emotions.
“We will figure this out. You have me, and I know you still have Tate. The way you talked about him, how he was there for you and Rowen. I know he’s there for you still!”
“I know… I just need “I know… I just need to stop pretending I can carry all of this by myself.”
“You are right, you deserve happiness and to find someone who will love you and Ro. I promise it’s going to be okay. Call me tomorrow, if you need me to fly out there I will. I love you Celeste.”
“Love you too.”
After we hang up, I walk into Rowen’s room.
He’s asleep, curled on his side.
I tuck the blanket around him tighter.
“I’ve got you,” I whisper again.
But this time it feels less certain.
Because the storm is coming.
And I just saw how much damage it’s already doing.